


The Beat Will Set You Free (Satisfaction Guaranteed)

by mrsronweasley



Series: Two-Night Stand [2]
Category: 30 Seconds to Mars, Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 13:19:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsronweasley/pseuds/mrsronweasley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick has barely managed to chuck a giggling Aimee out of his flat and have one last-minute change of heart with regard to the pants he's got on (black underwear winning out over the Beckham brand at the last second because no one could compete with Becks, especially not Nick) before his doorbell rings. He automatically checks the clock and if it <i>is</i> his booty call, he is about fifteen minutes early.</p><p>That is unacceptable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beat Will Set You Free (Satisfaction Guaranteed)

**Author's Note:**

> Completely pointless PWP, yay! With huge, HUGE thanks to Brooklinegirl for the beta, and to Bexless for both the Brit-pick and beta. You are both the best. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my own.
> 
> Slight warning for completely not-serious talk of watersports? Sorry? /o\
> 
> (The title is from En Vogue, to keep up the tradition, obviously.)

Nick has barely managed to chuck a giggling Aimee out of his flat and have one last-minute change of heart with regard to the pants he's got on (black underwear winning out over the Beckham brand at the last second because no one could compete with Becks, especially not Nick) before his doorbell rings. He automatically checks the clock and if it _is_ his booty call, he is about fifteen minutes early.

That is unacceptable.

He double-checks the peephole – one never wants an awkward _oh, haha, just stopping by for a chat, are you, Fill-in-the-Blank-Friend? Well, that's rather terrible, as I'm meant to be having sex right now_ -type situation – and sure enough, there is one Mr. Jared Leto, grinning right into the fisheye of the lens. Is his nose a weird shape? When it's put in the context of the rest of his face, it's lovely, but staring at Nick like a shark through his door, it's a bit alarming.

Nick takes a moment to roll his eyes at himself before swinging the door open. 

"And what d'you call this hour?" he demands as Jared steps in and thrusts a bottle of wine and a bunch of _truly_ hideous roses the colour of which Nick has yet to find in nature.

"Fun o'clock," Jared responds with a grin and spins around on one heel. "Did you clean? Smells clean in here."

Nick rolls his eyes again and brushes past him to walk to the kitchen. "You're a charmer on a second date, aren't you?" He had, in fact, spruced the place up a bit, but it's not as if he sprayed everything in sight with fairy dust whilst singing jolly songs to the tune of _someday, my prince will come_. 

Just some things. Bathroom-related things. He's got manners.

"Wait, wait –" Nick hears and before he's even had a chance to reach the fridge, he feels a hand on his elbow and turns around just in time for Jared to land a lovely kiss on his lips. The most charming part is, Jared is just short enough that Nick gets to look down into those soulful baby greys as they part. He smiles despite himself, the bottle of white pressed between them, the roses getting crushed – thankfully – against their legs. 

"Hi," Jared grins, and Nick just barely stops himself rolling his eyes _again._

"You," he says, pecking Jared on the nose, surprising even himself, "are a cheesemonger."

Jared just bites his lip and grins at him. "Where are your wine glasses?" 

Nick can't look away. Jared is just so bloody _pretty_. "In the cupboard over the cooker." He doesn't bother to point, his kitchen's not that complicated.

For a moment, there's an awkward silence whilst he shoves the wine in the freezer and chucks the flowers onto the table, and Jared is busy opening literally every single one of Nick’s cupboards before he even _gets_ to the one over the cooker. Nick is about to ask him how his day was when he realises, oh right, that's boring.

What colour underwear are you wearing – now, _there's_ a better topic.

"Nice jumper," he offers, watching Jared's arse move. "You do know what a cooker _is_ , don't you?" he adds. He can't help himself. 

"Sorry, wasn't listening, you're too adorable," Jared offers without turning around. "Ah, here we go." He finally manages to fish out two of Nick's best glasses (rock stars; honestly, rudimentary is never for them) and gives him a triumphant smile as he whips around. It's like he's spent the entire day choking down speed, honestly. "Wine?"

"Chilling," Nick offers. "You can't have warm white, it's not civilised." His mum taught him that. Proudest day of her life, he's pretty sure. Though he has absolutely caught her resorting to ice cubes on a bad day.

Jared seems to consider this for a moment, glasses in hand. Then he carefully sets them down on the counter and takes three strides to where Nick is lounging against his kitchen table. 

Nick's heart speeds up immediately. 

He can't help that, either – he's holding neither bottle nor flowers, and he's got nothing to protect himself with, so when Jared reaches him, Nick just props his hands on the table and lets Jared crowd him against it. He also spreads his thighs, which Jared takes full and utter advantage of, until no space separates them crotch to mouth.

The kiss is fucking gorgeous. Slow and soft, anticipatory. They both know what this is, and it's exactly what Nick wants. He's not sure about Jared's precise needs and desires, but by the way he's got Nick backed up against the table, hands fisted in Nick's shirt, it's probable they're in sync, here. 

It's a bizarre turn Nick's life has taken in the past two days, truly. When he texted Aimee, she didn't text back, but simply turned up on his doorstep forty minutes later like she was a cartoon, eyes round as saucers, hair like she'd spent that forty minutes with her fingers in every plug in London. "You did _who_? He did _what_? To _you?_ " It took her roughly two and a half drinks to let it fully sink in. Not that he can blame her.

"Hiya, Jared Leto," he says now, breaking off the kiss. 

"You're just terrible," Jared informs him, and Nick has to grin and shrug.

"I know," he agrees. He's also half-hard already, and it's not as if he can hide it, with Jared's whole body pressed up against him, spurring his cock on.

Not, mind you, that he's the only one. 

"Mmm, you're lovely," he blurts before he can stop himself, and shifts a little to get some friction going, cover up his blush, maybe. Jared gives him a glorious little gasp at that, and that's it. "Fuck the wine," Nick bites out.

Jared grabs him by the wrists and leads him down the hall to the bedroom.

*

Nick is the first one to lose his clothes this time. In fact, some of what he's got on doesn't even make it to the bedroom. His t-shirt gets strewn in the hall off the kitchen, his shoes are chucked in the lounge where he is sure to never find one or either of them again, and it's only because the momentum keeps them moving that he manages to keep his trousers on until his back hits the bedroom wall.

"Fuck," he gasps as Jared's hands, having fluttered and tugged and pulled all over his body, finally reach his flies. Maybe Nick should have pre-gamed; in his sober state, he is questioning reality a lot more than he would have otherwise, which is making him slow and sort of stupid. Jared smells incredible – a bit like aftershave, and just enough of sweat and sex that it's started to edge out the fabricated scent. Nick has the urge to throw him on the bed and just roll around, searching for where Jared's own smell is strongest.

Jared is also kissing the ever-loving shit out of Nick. Open-mouthed, dirty, amazing kisses that are reducing Nick's knees to jelly, that can barely even count as kisses anymore, really. Jared's got him proper pinned up against the wall, which is the only thing stood between Nick and his arse hitting the floor. All of these factors combined mean Nick is not contributing as much to the proceedings as he could, and that clearly needs to change.

Once he's able to tear his mouth away – and Jared immediately moves on to his neck, open-mouthed, hot bites, _Jesus_ \- Nick attempts to catch his breath and talk all at once. He doesn't usually have trouble talking, in _any_ situation, but just now, with Jared's tongue fluttering against his jugular, it's taking some effort.

"J- Jared - _Jared_ -" He bats his hands a bit uselessly at Jared's arms in between taking gulping hot breaths, and maybe it's good he hasn't had any wine, after all. He's already dizzy. "Want you naked, too," he manages to gasp out, and this is just getting embarrassing, the whole thing where his filter misfires and he winds up saying crap he hadn't meant to say. 

Jared, however, finally seems to hear him and sort of freezes in place, hot breath feeling almost cool on the wetness he'd left in the crook of Nick's shoulder. Jared's jumper feels coarse against Nick's overheated skin. Then Jared moves away from Nick's shoulder, catching Nick's gaze. He's smiling.

He doesn't kiss him. Instead, he drawls in that slow honeyed voice, "Want me naked, huh?"

Nick manages to stop himself from rolling his eyes again through a Herculean effort. "Yeeees," he says slowly and uses Jared's sudden stillness as well their miniscule but all-important height difference to his advantage, pushing off the wall and starting to walk them backwards towards the intended goal. "Fishing for compliments again, I see, the cheek of him," he adds, _tsk_ ing, at the same time as managing to divest a laughing Jared of his jumper, which leaves him gloriously topless, and once Jared's legs hit the bed, Nick goes for his jeans. 

They _both_ need to start wearing looser clothing, as he nearly gets kneed in the balls more than once, and Jared takes a kick to his shins before Nick's finally on him, legs bracketing Jared's narrow hips, both of them naked and panting like they've just run a marathon.

"Aren't you meant to be Mr. Fitness First?" Nick asks. He can't figure out where to look first – Jared's hard cock, Jared's flushed face, or the rest of Jared, which is just as gorgeous. He's got a six-pack, for God's sake. Nick doesn't even have a six-pack in his _fridge_.

Jared grabs Nick's hips and tries to yank him down, dicks nearly touching. "I _am_ ," he replies, with a certain wounded quality to his tone.

Nick grins and pokes him in his – hard, chiseled – chest. "So, why are you huffing and puffing and trying to –"

"'Cause you get me so hot," Jared says and Nick breaks into giggles right there on top of him, his face going hot despite his best intentions. Jared takes that moment to overtake him and then Nick crumples onto his side, Jared's weight pinning him to his own bed, hot and hard all over. There's not a part of Jared that's soft. God, he's dreamy. 

"You're awful," Nick says, but the next moment, he gives in to the kiss. He gives in to the hands running all down his back, the sweat building up between them, the feel of Jared's hard thighs and bony knees spreading Nick's legs, turning him slack and putty-like. Everything in his body is vibrating with this. All day he'd been primed for it, really, the anticipation defining his every move, leading his every thought. Now he's here, and – still surprisingly, somehow – so is Jared, and they've got all night. Nick's not stupid – he's had enough caffeine to slay a warhorse. He is not giving up a glorious night of shagging to some sleep.

Where to start, though. That is a question that he'll need some input on.

Jared is a fucking amazing kisser. Nick could really get used to this. He's missed kissing – wanking a random off at a nightclub doesn't tend to lead to a lot of kissing.

This is fucking lovely. Jared's tongue is hot and velvety against Nick's, and he's slow about it, deliberate, stupidly sexy. Obviously, he knows it, but Nick doesn't mind. Jared can be as deliberate as he fucking wants, as long as he keeps touching Nick like he is, weirdly sweet and with so much intent, it's a wonder Nick's not caught fire yet. He's hard as a rock. 

Jared hums as he pulls away and Nick, through his hazy, lusty brainspace, can tell he's probably in trouble before Jared even speaks. Damn his puppy-dog eyes. 

"What?" Nick asks when Jared bites his lip and still doesn't speak. Nick feels himself going a little rigid. Is – is he going to ask Nick if he can wee on him? That would certainly make a lot more sense in the context of Nick's life. Here's a hot man fucking you, and on the second date, he admits to being a pervert. Surprise! Nick primes himself for the worst, at same time as actually, for a nanosecond, considering that well, wee's not actually the _worst_ , and it _is_ Jared Leto...

"Can I – " Jared finally says, running a single finger down Nick's chest, catching on the hair there, all the way down until he reaches the tip of Nick's dick. Despite, or perhaps even to spite, his brain, Nick’s body reacts without him, tensing up in a way that expects orgasms, not piss. "I've been kind of thinking about it all day," Jared continues, letting his words sink in between them, right into Nick's overheated skin, every hair on Nick's body standing up from the tension. "Like, couldn't _stop_ thinking about it," he goes on, and when he slips a hand down to Nick's balls, Nick's knees automatically fall open, allowing Jared to get past all defenses and Nick's body gives a full shiver, oh God, golden showers, here he comes. 

"What, what, oh my God, just spit it out," he pants as his hand curls into the sheets, and he squirms in place, poised on the edge of _something_ , something that Jared's going to give him whether he's asked for it or not. 

"Can I fuck you?" Jared asks, and Nick groans, too far gone to make words, totally useless as a human being.

Not a small part of him feels a huge relief, however. 

"Yay, no wee!" he cheers. Jared Leto's not a pervert after all! Then he realises he's cheered out loud. 

"What?" Jared yelps.

Nick winces and shrugs apologetically. "Sorry, sorry, I was just sort of – worried what you might have been asking me –"

" _Why_ does your brain automatically go to watersports, though?” Jared asks incredulously. “Should I be worried?" 

He doesn't _look_ like Nick's just ruined the whole thing with his stupid mouth, but Nick rushes to reassure him, anyway, waving his hands around. "No, no, it's just – you know. You're – famous and –" 

By the look on Jared's face, Nick sees that it might be a good time to stop talking, but he's Nick Grimshaw, he doesn't know _how_. So he plows on. 

"I don't know, you looked all hesitant and I was worried you'd ruin my fantasy life –"

"Because I'm famous?" Jared says, looking wounded again. "Do I give off some sort of vibe or something?"

Nick is so over this whole conversation, oh God. "Ugh, forget it, sorry, I was – you know, happy, or whatever –"

"So that was a yes?" Jared interrupts with a grin, any thought of watersports seemingly put aside. 

"Fucking me?" Nick says, happy to finally be past the urinating bit. His heart hammers in his chest. 

He may need a little liquid courage for this. 

"You've got to earn that, Mr. Leto." He uses the momentary confusion on Jared's face to plant his foot on the bed and roll them over. 

Sue him, he loves straddling sexy men. Jared's face is a picture – he is actually, _clearly_ thinking about what he's going to have to do to _earn_ fucking Nick, and isn't that just a moment to cherish. Nick grabs Jared's hands and pins them above Jared's head, grinning down at him. 

"What've you done for me lately?" he quotes, and Jared, now sort of with the programme, gives him a beatific smile.

"You seemed to like that blowjob last night," he notes.

Nick smiles. "Mmm, that _was_ lovely. I may require more, though."

"More dick-sucking?"

"More _wine_ , actually," he says and lowers himself until their noses are touching. Jared's hair has escaped the bun again and Nick hopes that see him with the full-on Jesus locks before this night is over. He's fairly confident he can make that happen. "If you get me wine," he says in a low voice that he _knows_ has worked on blokes before, "You can fuck me." And he can get his head around this whole ridiculous business happening in his bed in the meantime.

"Cheap date," Jared breathes. 

"I am," Nick replies. "That's my secret."

*

A naked Jared Leto walking through his bedroom doorway with two glasses of wine in hand had never actually been part of Nick's fantasy life, but it has now entered his consciousness in such an inalienable way that he is fairly certain no other moment may ever come close. Decades from now, when his brain gets frozen and assimilated into a gigantic Think Tank, the first thing this new humanity will ever see will be a naked Jared Leto walking through Nick's bedroom doorway with two glasses of wine in hand.

Nick's tried to arrange himself sort of artfully on the bed in the meantime, going for various positions such as _sexy starfish_ , _lounge lizard_ , and the _hey baby, my knee is up so you can stick it in me easier_ favourite, but in the end, Jared catches him at the exact moment Nick's hand is halfway into his drawer, fishing for condoms and lube. Jared just smirks at him. He's still hard.

"All the makings of a good night," Nick tells him, slamming the drawer shut and grinning, tossing his prizes next to him on the bed. "Ooh, lovely, thank you." He accepts the glass of wine and takes a long and clearly expensive sip. He feels somewhat like Julia Roberts, minus the hooker boots. 

Jared, still hard (and still smirking) sinks down onto the bed next to Nick and takes a sip of his own wine. His free hand somehow manages to find Nick's knee and Nick twitches; it's cold. Miraculously, through the pause in the proceedings, his body's still primed for it, and misinterprets _chilly corpse hand_ into _please touch me intimately_ and his half-hard dick gets fully hard in a nanosecond. Sodding Jared Leto and his – everything, really. 

"Sod this," he announces, sets his glass down, and grabs Jared's away from him. "Fucking fuck me already." He's as cheap as they come. One sip and he is raring to go.

"Fuck yes," Jared grins and climbs him.

Well, he tries to, but Nick's leggy, all right, and Jared gets knocked about a bit by Nick's knees and shins in his eagerness, which is adorable, but counterproductive. Nick grabs him by the shoulders and sort of tries to twist him down onto the bed. Jared's face is a picture – flushed, pupils blown, grin utterly filthy. As soon as he's landed on his back, Nick makes a grab for the lube and tosses it right onto Jared's perfect chest before reclining back and spreading his legs.

"Get to work, darling," he tells him, and closes his eyes. 

"Pushy," Jared breathes beside him. He doesn't sound like he minds that.

It only occurs to Nick then to wonder if Jared's ever actually done boys up the arse before, and if he knows _all_ the ins and outs, so to speak, inherent therein. Hmm. Nick considers not ruining the moment and seeing what he can work with here, should Jared's inexperience lead him to believe Nick doesn't need prep, but then he decides the better part of valour is to try avoiding terrible sex at all costs. He cracks open one eye and is about to say something, when he sees Jared carefully dripping lube onto his fingers, pretty eyelashes fluttering underneath his furrowed eyebrows. Nick gets a full-body chill just from seeing that. He bites his lip and waits.

He doesn't have to wait long. 

"C'mere, Princess," Jared says softly, and Nick, tiara firmly in place, obeys the way Jared's other hand tilts his hips up. He shudders at the first touch, just a gentle sweep to his underside, and then Jared slowly, so very, very slowly, slides the first finger in. 

Nick squirms – he can't help it, it's been a while since he's even fingered himself – and breathes through it. What a weird feeling, that is, after all this time. He loves getting fucked, but it's an adjustment every time. 

"You okay?" Jared asks. Nick's eyes flutter open (and he hadn't realised they'd even closed) and he catches Jared's gaze. Fuck, that is hot. Jared looks just a little out of it, like he's nearly as far gone as Nick, which is nice. Nick likes an equal playing field at times such as these. He nods, a bit shaky, and continues biting his lip as Jared slides his finger deeper in, circling it, looking for –

"Nggh," Nick manages and _fuck_. "Yesss." Jared keeps circling the same spot, just one finger, but Nick's already leaking. Oh, God. "I can – I can take more," he tells him. Jared's other hand sort of twitches around Nick's flank.

"Okay," he whispers. Another finger slides in, and Nick grabs into the sheets with both fists, taking it. He's taken a lot more, and _will_ do again in just a minute, but this feels like a lot, every time. Every fucking time, and isn't that just a miracle. He feels out of control and weirdly serene. Come on, he thinks. _Come on_.

"I'm – I'm good," Nick decides, just as Jared's added a third finger to the proceedings. "Just – just," he slaps Jared's arm a little aimlessly, "just fuck me already."

Jared makes a tiny aborted kind of noise, and then his fingers slip out all at once. Nick takes a breath – that's always just a little jarring– and makes a grab for one of the pillows behind his head to stuff under his arse. 

"Wait, no, come – come here," Jared says and climbs up the bed until his own arse is up against Nick's pillows, back up against the headboard, and he's giving Nick a crooked smile. When did he manage to put the condom on? Nick totally missed that. "Like this," Jared explains.

Nick raises an eyebrow. His dick is so hard, he can barely _move._ "Are you serious right now?" Now he's got to do all the work? Sodding Jared Leto. 

"Yeah," Jared says, sounding totally serious. "I like it like this, it lasts longer."

Nick's not convinced by this at all, but he knees his way up until he's sat over Jared's lap. Now he's got to be the one to get himself on that. Honestly, he just wanted a nice hard fuck. 

"I should have –" He grabs onto the headboard and lifts himself up until he can line up against the head of Jared's cock. "I should have known you'd be all –" he continues as Jared reaches for his hips and guides Nick down, bit by bit, oh God, that's a fucking _lot_ of man to take there. Nick bites his lip and breathes through it.

Nick catches Jared's gaze as he settles in fully, Jared's cock hard as a rock inside him. _Jesus._ For a moment, neither of them moves, their breath mingling. Then Jared grins, all sex and bravado, and deliberately rests his arms on top of the headboard. Nick rolls his eyes. 

"Seriously," he says. "I should have known you'd be all Zen Sex Master about this. Why've _I_ got to do all the work?"

"I told you," Jared says and whoa, his voice just went a whole octave lower. Must be Nick's arse clenched around his dick. "It's better this way."

"For _who_?" Nick asks, but then just sitting there becomes way too much, he needs to _move_ , he needs to _fuck_ , and so he does. If Jared's going to be a lazy tantric arsehole about this, Nick's going to make this as difficult on him as possible. Yeah, he's got a bit of a sadistic streak in him. 

He's already sweating, and he's not exactly eighteen years old anymore, but he manages to lean back and anchor his hands behind him before he lifts up and slams down and oh, God, yeah. Right there, _fuck_. 

He hears Jared gasp but soon, he's hearing nothing but his own blood pounding in his ears as he fucks himself on Jared's dick, over and over and over again. Nick's so hard, and Jared's cock is so _good_ inside him, he loses himself in it completely. Miraculously, his body takes the wheel and he doesn't notice the cramping in his thighs, or the aching in his abs from leaning back, and all he fucking wants, truly, is to break Jared like this, to give him a show he'll remember for the rest of his life, and he feels mad, totally out of his mind, tethered to the bed only by the spot connecting them and the feel of Jared's hard thighs beneath him. 

"Jesus Christ, Nick –" Jared's voice cracks, and Nick grins without opening his eyes, just bites his lip and continues fucking him like this, just like this, and yeah, maybe this _is_ better. This is loads better, because Jared's grabbed him around the waist, his grip hard, almost painful, and Nick feels like water, flowing, limbless, shuddering every time he hits the sweet spot, God. He's not close to coming, but he will be soon, he knows. "Fuck, you're so hot, baby, Jesus Christ," Jared's murmuring, and Nick only feels him moving because Jared's dick shifts inside him and he gasps. Then Jared grabs him around the small of his back and Nick's eyes fly open before his view moves from "wall and ceiling" to "flying backwards ceiling" and he is no longer in Jared's lap but being _bent in half_ by Jared bearing down on him and fucking his brains out.

Oh, _fuck_ yes. He's won this round. 

Nick allows himself a little victory grin before Jared kisses him, but it's barely a kiss at all. Their teeth knock together before they can get a proper position, and it's hard and hot and wet, and Nick can't stop himself moaning, Christ. He's ratcheted up, he's so close to coming and he's not even _touched his own dick_ , oh God. 

Without thought, he grabs Jared's arse with one hand and lets the movement drive Jared deeper in, deeper, harder, _oh God_ , and then his other hand is on his dick, jerking himself off, fast and dirty. 

"Yes, fuck, make yourself come," Jared rasps, and Nick groans as his body goes hot and tense. He's silent when he comes with Jared's teeth sunk into his neck, no reserves left to even make a noise. He shudders, coming so long and hot, his toes curl and his hands go numb. God, it feels _amazing._

His throat is dry; he floats, trapped between an unrelenting Jared, driving into him again and again, smearing Nick's come across their bellies, and his sheets, suddenly coarse despite the thread count. It feels like Jared's been fucking him forever, and it feels like they've just started. He's trying to catch his breath just as Jared bites so deep into Nick's neck, Nick sees stars and cries out, and Jared comes. Nick feels it, so oversensitive that it almost hurts, like he's being split in two. Jared's groan is muffled against Nick's skin, but the vibration goes all through him. Nick shudders and shudders, he can't stop, not until Jared stops acting out his vampire fantasies on top of him and pulls away enough that Nick can start breathing again.

They stare at each other for a long moment until Nick grins and reaches up to finally divest Jared of that stupid, stupid bun. Jared smiles, that adorable sweet smile of his, and shakes out his hair until it's hanging around them both, faces nearly touching. 

"Okay," Nick breathes, his voice totally wrecked. "You're gonna need to pull out now."

Jared obeys instantly, but not so instantly that it hurts. Nick really appreciates that sort of considerate behaviour in a bloke. It still smarts, but that's the nature of the anal beast. 

When he's free of Jared's weight, Nick slowly – oh so slowly – unfolds his cramping legs, allowing them to drop back to the bed. He's covered in his own come. He really needs to wash that stuff off before it gets stuck to his belly hair. It's too bad he can't be bothered to move, like, even a centimetre. 

"Oof," he complains once all of his limbs are relaxed and his arse makes its previous activities sort of known. 

"You okay?" Jared asks, looking concerned and lifting himself up on one elbow. The rest of him, Nick notes, including his cock, looks totally and completely limp. Wore himself out, he did. 

Nick grins. "One hundred percent. Could you be a love, though? Get me a wet flannel?"

Jared gives him a look. "A – flannel?"

"Yeah, you know –" Nick flaps his hand around the area of his belly, "to wipe myself down with? A face flannel." Does coming make Jared stupid?

"Wait. Like a washcloth?" 

Oh, right. "Yes," Nick nods, trying not to sound like a condescending arsehole. He's totally been _that_ tourist in America. "A _washcloth_."

Jared cracks up and starts climbing off the bed a little labouriously. "You Brits are so weird," he says as he pads into Nick's bathroom. His nice, _clean_ bathroom, with a fresh set of towels hung up and everything. Nick preens a little, then yells after him, "in the cupboard under the sink! There's clean ones there. Wet it first!"

"Oh my God, I know what to do with a washcloth, Grimmy," Jared tells him from behind the wall. Nick thinks he hears a muttered _pain in the ass_ , which is fair, really. He does give it his all. 

A wet flannel lands on his chest. God, what an absolutely disgusting feeling, but then Nick catches a glimpse of Jared strutting around his bedroom, bare-arsed and gorgeous even with a soft cock, and decides to focus on that, instead. 

"Quite enjoying the view?" Nick asks whilst Jared peers at his bookshelves. 

"Are you?" Jared shoots back without turning around. Cocky bastard. Nick laughs, wiping himself down as quick as he can. God, come can be gross under certain circumstances. 

"Yes," he answers and throws the dirty flannel in Jared's direction. It misses, of course, because if you looked up _least likely to hit a target even if it's staring him in the face from a foot away_ , you'd see Nick's picture next to it, and it flops wetly onto his nice floors. "Ugh, that was meant to land on your arse," he complains. 

Jared turns towards him and raises an eyebrow. "Is that your afterglow activity? Is it like a marking thing?" 

Nick pretends to think about it. "Maybe. Oh, hey, my wine." He'd forgot about it, what with all the glorious shagging and all. He sits up and snatches up his glass, taking a nice long sip. It really is quite good. Jared must have splurged. The thought makes him all warm and fuzzy inside.

"Oh, yeah." Jared abandons sassing Nick in favour of walking over to grab his own glass. He watches Nick as he stands there drinking, and it's like déjà vu all over again. 

Nick, being Nick, feels the need to break the weird tension. "So, uh, what'd you feel like doing now?" It's as much a question for himself as it is for Jared. Now that they're clearly not getting it up again for a while, and he's not really sleepy at all, he has no idea of the protocol involved here. 

Jared shrugs, then polishes off his wine, and sinks down onto the bed, fucking gorgeous as ever. In the dim light of the bedroom, Nick takes stock of things he hadn't had time to notice until now. Things like how Jared's skin looks, pale and pretty, as he moves over him; the way he smells even more like sex now that they've shagged, but not just like himself, like Nick, too, and Nick's aftershave and hair product; how truly magnetic he is, everything Nick had been promised on the tin, really. Jared Leto, man. Wild.

"I'm not tired," Jared informs him through a smile, then leans in and nips lightly at Nick's chin, then kisses the same spot. 

"Not tired, either," Nick agrees, nodding like an idiot, and winds his arms around Jared's neck. He's been reduced to a swooning maiden in two hours flat.

God, though. Jared _really_ is an amazing kisser.

*

"More wine!" Jared announces some time later, after they've kissed so long, Nick's lips might actually be bruised in the morning. He jostles Nick as he clambers out of bed, and before Nick can say a word, Jared's scooped up both their empty glasses and legged it out of Nick's bedroom.

"Hope you're coming back!" Nick calls after him.

"Don't be a smartass," Jared shouts back. Nick falls back on the bed, laughing. 

What time is it? He glances over at his bedside clock. Blimey, past midnight already. He wonders if Jared's in for the night like yesterday. He hadn't _mentioned_ the need to leave, or anything, but hasn't he got a flight to catch or summat, tomorrow? Nick chews on his lip and waits for the reoccurrence of his new favourite fantasy.

His fantasy pads into the room with a bottle of wine in one hand, and a packet of Jaffa Cakes held triumphantly in another. 

"You are an angel," Nick informs him and opens up his hands when Jared makes to throw the packet at him. Nick tears into it like a crazed dog. Sod the wine, he's having biscuits. 

Jared laughs as he crawls back up the bed, wine clutched victoriously in one hand. "Hungry?"

"Ferociously," Nick admits, even though he hadn't realised that until a moment ago. He takes his time, though, because with Jaffa Cakes, you've got to do it properly. He chews off the circle around the middle, careful not to disturb it. The chocolate is next – he loves the thin dark layer of it, it's actually the best part, but Jaffa Cakes are sacred, so he doesn't leave it till the end. The spongy bottom is tougher to get off, but he's got plenty of experience and he scoops it off the middle carefully with his tongue. It's not until he's left with the squishy jelly part that he notices Jared just staring at him, bottle of wine frozen in the air midway to his mouth. "What?" he asks through a mouthful of biscuit.

"What," Jared asks, "are you doing?" 

He doesn't sound freaked out, just a little frozen. Nick swallows and says, "haven't you ever had a proper Jaffa Cake before?"

"I mean – I have. Just – not like that," Jared says, not quite watching Nick's eyes. More like he's focused on his – ohhhhh. Nick licks his lips and grins.

"Do you want a lesson on proper Jaffa Cake eating technique?" he asks, and in one _very_ smooth movement, if he does say so himself, straddles Jared's hips. 

"Yes," Jared replies, hands running up Nick's thighs. Nick grins down at him.

*

Jared's got him, arm round Nick's middle, breathing heavy and hot against Nick's ear, and Nick's so glad he doesn't have to do much but fucking moan his heart and lungs out, because fuck, Jared fucking him now is even better than Jared fucking him the first time. He gets lost in their rhythm, lost in the darkness of his bedroom. They really had gone to sleep, only to wake up again and bump mouths accidentally, which had led to kissing, such nice kissing until Nick spread his legs and Jared gently turned him over and –

" _Fuck_ ," Jared breathes, hot against Nick's skin, and Nick shudders, the sound traveling down to his toes, letting Jared fuck him into the mattress, slow and sweet. Nick might even be half-asleep, but the half that's awake is oh so satisfied. He grabs Jared's thigh and digs in, body moving without any input from him, just following the push and pull of Jared behind him, his own cock hard and leaking, and then Jared slides his hand further down – such strong hands – and Nick moans out his gratitude; moans and comes and rocks and rocks and rocks.

*

"Nooo, it's too early," Nick whines and burrows further beneath his pillow. It's barely even light out, by the looks of it, but Jared's shaking him awake. Why is that even happening, he's not supposed to be up for at least another two hours, it's the law of Sunday morning. 

"I know, Princess," Jared says behind him, in a lovely soothing voice, one designed to _lull_ Nick to sleep, not get him _out_ of it. "But I gotta get back to the hotel, I've got a flight to catch."

Something clicks in Nick's brain and he's jolted awake. _Oh._ Oh. "Oh," he says, sounding just about as pathetic as he feels. He knew it, he _knew_ Jared was in town for two days, but – well, the shagging had just been so lovely. Nick doesn't _want_ to go back to not knowing where his next fuck is coming from. Two days, and it's already a habit. That's just pathetic. 

Jared tugs on the duvet and starts to uncover Nick bit by bit. It's cold and annoying, but Nick doesn't stop him. He's rewarded with a gentle kiss to his shoulder, which finally forces him to push his pillow away and open his eyes. His room is awash in grey light, Jared the only point of colour, but just barely. He's so pretty. Nick smiles despite himself and leans in for a kiss. Like all morning kisses, it's not the best-tasting, but like all of Jared's kisses, it's lovely. When they part, Nick drops his head back onto his pillow, Jared mirroring him. His hair is completely mad, strewn across Nick's pillows like he's Fabio. 

"Your hair is ridiculous, you know," Nick tells him quietly, not wanting to disturb the atmosphere.

"Pot, kettle," Jared smirks. 

"I thought you liked the quiff," Nick says, remembering. 

In response, Jared lifts a hand, looking very serious and concentrated, and runs it through Nick's hair, making it even more mental than it gets every morning. "I do."

Nick just hums and closes his eyes. 

He doesn't remember drifting off, but when he wakes up the next time, he wakes up alone. He starts and nearly jumps out of bed, every single muscle in his body protesting any movement, before spotting the note on the pillow next to his.

How cliché, he thinks as he grabs it and rubs his eyes before bringing the piece of paper nearly to his nose. 

_Hey, you. Sorry I didn't wake you up – you were just so cute asleep. Our last kiss was nice, even though I was the only participant. Sorry. That's creepy. Anyway, now that we have each other's numbers, we should do a repeat performance. Maybe even a _date_ date. Anyway. Stole some of your cookies – thank you. Sorry. This is a stupid note. I had an amazing time. You've become my favorite part of London by a thousand miles and leagues. I'll be back in three months, and I'll look you up. In the meantime, take it easy, hot stuff. And don't cut off that quiff._

_xo,  
Jared_

Nick grins despite himself and decides that, well, all right. So he didn't get to have another shag, or even make Jared tea, which he had vaguely considered somewhere in between all the shagging. What he does have, however, is absolute rock solid proof that he has shagged Jared Leto. 

Doesn't he? Okay, so Jared didn't sign it with _Jared Leto_ , but Nick's got backstory on his side. It's clear enough.

He thinks he might frame it. Then he decides he will keep it safe in the recesses of his beside table, where he can take it out during his lower moments and re-read it until it looks like an old-timey letter. It would make good material for the whole _Think Tank of the Future_ plan he's got, anyway.

He'd best find an envelope for it so it doesn't yellow too much. He might need to take a photo to remember it in its current state. In fact, that is a brilliant idea. He slowly climbs out of bed, wincing at the stiffness of his thighs and back and the soreness in his arse, and wanders around the lounge, looking for his phone. He locates it under a cushion on the sofa and is just about to swipe it open when, amidst a series of texts, Jared's name catches his eye.

He bites his lip as he slides it open.

_Those jaffa cakes are the bomb. Stealing the whole packet next time. Xo J_

Nick cracks up, takes a screenshot, and pads back into his bedroom. He takes a picture of the note, sends both to Aimee, and settles in to await her reply.

***


End file.
